


We're All Trapped

by ItsComingUpHardy



Category: John Fitzgerald - Fandom, The Revenant (2016), Tom Hardy - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5818885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsComingUpHardy/pseuds/ItsComingUpHardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grey Lawson has made her life from Trapping. She can survive out in the wilderness better than any man. After being taken by a group of American Trappers, she realises that working as part of a team seems a whole lot better than fending for herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Beginning.

Nestled safely in the nearby shrubbery, Grey set her rifle slowly down on the mossy rock in front of her. The carefully grazing stag stood by one of the decaying oaks, keeping its ears pinned for any sign of activity around it. Sighing quietly at the majestic creature before her, she realised that killing this thing was morally shameful. It’s beautiful pelt with a clean shade of chocolate brown, unscathed from any fighting or injury. Its beautiful antlers stood tall and sharp, obviously an escaped teenager from its pack. But six hundred and fifty dollars was a pretty penny for the head of a Stag and she sure as hell wasn’t going to give that up.

Aiming clear for the neck, she settled her rifle into it’s position. It’s long graceful neck was bent as it grazed the long grass in the bushes. Closing her good eye, she aimed for the long vein in its neck, the one that would kill it fast and wouldn’t damage the rest of its pelt. 

“I’m sorry boy. You’re going to be the reason for my full belly tonight.” Pulling the sharp trigger, the bullet hit straight for the vein, collapsing the creature gracefully onto its side. Nodding her head sharply at the kill, she threw the rifle over her shoulder, listening to the shot echo through-out the beautiful woodland.

\----

The shot was undeniable. The blast echoed through the quiet camp of men, laying down their heads for the evening. Each of them turned to one another, quiet whispers of who it might be out there spring the men into quiet action.

“Now boys, we don’t move from this spot. Arm yourself, but don’t move.” Captain Henry sat against the tree bark and armed his rifle in time for Fitzgerald to come back from his toilet break.

“God, it was a single shot. Probably a hunter wandered too far. We’re thirty strong ‘ere Cap. Let’s get some shut eye before these men lose their damn minds.” Turning onto his side, John pulled the fir over his cold, tired body and began to drift into slumber. The men around him unsure whether to sleep or stay awake just in case of an ambush.

\-----

Pulling her hunting knife from his leather casing, she began work on the poor creatures head. It was soft to touch but full of good tender meat that she would enjoy for the next few days of her hunt. The head was always the easiest to pull. The neck snapped so easy in her hands, she was surprised it never came away completely.

Stowing the head was the hardest, she couldn’t just carry the damn thing around with her. The horse was big enough to hold her load of beaver and lynx skins, but not the head of a Stag. Making fine work of the decapitation, she wondered why anyone would want something this beautiful head and hanging on a mantel piece. She would understand if the person shot this as their trophy, but having someone else go out and murder this poor thing was a damn shame. Before she became sentimental, she stuffed the head into the leather sack and turned back to skin the stag. 

\----   
Mornings were always Grey’s favourite. The morning dew always made her open her tired eyes to a new day. She wrapped herself in the dark fur coat she trapped herself and rubbed her sore, cold fingers against the wool trousers that were damp from the morning air. Her hair was piled high on her head and tied with a course piece of dark grey string. 

She never really classed herself as being beautiful. She was Daddy’s little girl, with a good eye and a thirst for the hunt. She was built strong and lean but was always too small for anything too strenuous. Her sisters were the opposite. Tall, beautiful blonds with bright blue eyes. All married the strong men able for the war. Not Grey, Grey was beautiful but she was too smart to marry just any man. Her green eyes were the only things she inherited from her mother.   
Everything else was her Father. She never wore dresses or any kind of make-up, because she was always ready to get up and out into the wilderness with her Father. Catch the dinner for the night, a new rug for the cabin, anything to keep herself away from knitting and cooking with her siblings.  
Her life was no different now. The only way she cooked, was holding the raw meat over the fire until it wasn’t as pink as it was. She could make a mean rabbit stew and she could skin better than any man. Ask her to sew a dress? Ask her to dance? She was fucking useless. 

Packing up the rest of her stuff, she settled onto her horse and starting for the days ride to the cabin she owned just over the hill. It was small, it was cramped, but it was warm. The trees began to sway with the wind that was picking up. There was no sign of snow, but the season was almost upon her. She would need to stock up and get her provisions in as soon as she could. 

Before she could go over the itinerary in her head, the branch swung straight in front of her face, knocking her straight to the ground and in to the unforgiving darkness.

\----

Anderson always went for his morning stroll through the bushes in search for a place to sit and have a think. Or somewhere he could let off some steam. He could never get how men could finish themselves off in the company of other men around them. If the time came, he would find a place of his own and think about some of the girls he knew back home in London. 

Bracing himself against the tree, he unbuckled his belt and pulled himself out of his pants for a piss, making sure to mark his territory with a good wide circle. Looking off into the distance, he genuinely thought his imagination was running wild or his fantasy was coming true. Dead straight, the full hour glass shape of a busty brunette stood under the narrow falls of the water coming down from the green hills. She was hard to see from far away, but he knew exactly where to look. Her long brown hair sat just above the bend in her back, where her spin met that glorious arse. Her stomach was flat from what he could see, but the bust. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

He definitely knew this job had got to him. Why in the blue fuck, would a woman be out here showering? She was no ree. She was all soft white and pinks. No, this was for sure a dream he didn’t want to wake from. Tucking himself away, he knelt close to the rocks in front of him, careful not to dislodge any and attract her attention. She showered off her face, which he still couldn’t make out. The rest of her was plain to see. Although she had an hour glass figure, she dipped and curved in all the right places. Her stomach was flat, but her hips were wide. Her shoulders were broad and he thought that good enough to hold such a marvellous set of breasts he’d ever laid eyes upon. 

Before he could fantasize any further, she began to pull on her underwear, followed swiftly by the copious amounts of furs and leathers that matched his very attire. 

He couldn’t believe his very eyes when she threw the rifle over her shoulder and fixed what looked like a dagger into the leather pouch of her trousers. She was a fucking trapper. His thoughts were fast and wild. A female trapper was completely unheard of but not completely out of the realm of possibilities. The country was in such a state that women practically done anything to put food on the table.

Making a rash decision, he decided she was best coming with him back to camp.

Yeah, a female in the barracks would make for a delightful addition. 

\----

Waking to the sound of angry chatter, she moved to swipe the hair from her face to find that her hands were bound together. Opening her eyes in a panic, the darkness evaded her senses and the feel of a rough nap sack was over her face. Wriggling and making her “wakefulness” known, she braced herself as the heavy footsteps got closer and closer to her.

“Fucking fool. What were you thinking bringing her back here?” The southern accent was so deep and broad she realised that she wasn’t captured by Natives or The French for that matter. Both making her relax a little. The sack was pulled from her eyes and the bright Sun of late morning stung at her retinas.

“She had a stags head on her horse and enough meat to carry for at least a week. The woman is a hunter and I thought she would be better off tagging along with us.” The English accent was already grating on her nerve but the men looking down at her was enough to cause the bile to raise into the back of her throat. 

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” The man was tall, she would give him that. His beard was a sallow shade of brown and ginger and the smoke covered his face like a foggy dew. 

“If you would care to untie me, I would be quite happy to answer that question.” Her voice was low, she didn’t want to piss anyone off, especially this guy. 

Grunting at her response, he tilted his head towards her bound and bent slowly onto what she assumed was a bad leg and cut at her bounds. Freed of her bounds, she caught her baring’s and flipped onto her front to make a quick getaway. Throwing herself forward, she dodged the smaller guys in front of her, kneeing the younger boy in the stomach. Before she could make the passing in the tree’s, she heard the click of the rifle and the shot was a mere millimetre from her head.

“If you run any further, I’ll make sure that it’s through your skull the next time.” Turning to his voice, he was just a few yards away. Surrounded by the men she had floored, she raised her hands above her heads and walked the few defeated steps towards her captor.

With the gun still raised between her eyes, she stood in front of the man. His green coat covering the red overalls and the dark brown leather of his holster slung over his shoulder. She looked at anything but his eyes.

“What’s your name?” The softer he spoke, the more intimidating he sounded. Looking up, she looked the man square in the eye.

“Grey. Grey Lawson.” He heard what could be the slight remnants of a Texan accent but he wasn’t sure.

“What are you doing out here?” He pulled his thumb from the set trigger but kept his forefinger steady on the front trigger. She was crafty enough to try and escape once, he knew she was capable of doing it again.

“What y’all are doing. Making a living.” She brought her arms down to her hips and pushed her chin up. This made her feel the slightest bit taller than this man but he was still holding the gun to her face and that wasn’t good enough.

“You hunting that Stag down there? You shoot that last night?” The question came from behind her and she was sure she was allowed to answer until the mysterious man tilted the gun up in a silent bid for her to answer.

“I was huntin’ that stag for near four days. That was my kill. I wasn’t hoachin’ in on your play fellas. Girls got to make a living and a girl sure does have to eat.” Biting her lip, she realised that the bag of meat she had been saving was being unloaded next to the fire. Her glorious kill was now going to be wasted to these men.

“If you don’t mind. I have a day’s journey ahead of me and if I’m to get where I want to be, I need to be leavin’ now.” Holding her arms above her head again, she went for her rifle bag but was stopped when the gun was planted against her cheek.

“Sweetheart, you aren’t going anywhere.”


	2. For The Warmth

She sat by the fire, hands bound and gagged as she watched the men feast on her hard work. All the meat she had saved was now being slapped between bread and gnawed on by hungry, savage strangers. Rolling her eyes at the men, she couldn’t help her own stomach growling as she could smell the cooked meat from the spit nearby.

Closing her eyes, she rolled her head and shoulders to get a comfortable position. The gag was completely unnecessary, she had fuck all to say to these idiots. She now kind of wished it was the French, at least she would have gotten away with all her shit. But these guys, she had no idea why they were keeping her.

 

The man next to her was too close for comfort. The stinking smell of sweat and dried animal blood was enough for her to roll her eyes in revolt. He was breathing his stink on to her and she was pearliest to get away.

“You know, all I can think about is that beautiful fucking body of yours.” Turning her head in shock, she watched the man’s crude smile turn into a lustful smirk, still chewing the carcass in that dirty mouth of his.

“Your tits, are honest to God, the BEST fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Just the right size.” Holding his hands out in front of him to emphasis his point, she realised he must have saw her shower, this was the guy that knocked her out. This English fuck, was the reason she was gagged and bound and he was sitting next to her.

“I would eat you over this Stag any day sweetheart.” Leaning himself in close, she backed herself away from him and before he could lay anything on her, he was pulled back.

“Leave it Anderson, go play with yourself.” And with that, he was pushed from the log and kicked away from her. The man sat at a safe distance, placing bits of bread and meat on a plate and setting it next to her on the log. Pulling the blade from his pocket, he was a young boy with soft features. Cutting her bounds and pulling the gag free, he nodded down to the plate before switching over to the opposite side and giving her some space.

Looking at the plateful of her earnings made her crave for home. Picking up the small plate, she chewed slowly on the Stag meat and relished in the smoky taste created from the fire. The bread was far from fresh but it was a great side to her meat. It helped with the hunger pangs in her stomach anyways.

“Tonight, we’ll move on East past the hills. We’ll take you that far before we let you go. We have a small Barracks up there.” She took in the man’s ginger beard and the Captains jacket and realised this was the man in charge. He better have a level head she thought.

“I don’t need to go to your Barracks. I’m not lost. I have a cabin not a day’s ride from here. People waiting on me.” She placed the empty plate down at her feet and dusted the crumbs from her vest.

“By all due respects Miss Lawson, I can’t let you wander these hills in case you make other folks aware of our course.” The Captain was softly spoken and the rest of the men nodded their head in agreement. Sighing softly, she ran her fingers through her fringe, the rest of her hair tied into a tight brain at the side of her head.

“Look, I have no interest in what you guys have here to offer. You’re trappers. I get that. I have no alliance with any other folks other than the people depending on me to bring food back.” Eyeing each of the men with her bounty stuffed in their mouths, she continued.

“You don’t have to buy my silence, because I didn’t need to be anywhere near here. Your man there caught’s me off guard is all. Now, I’m not going to rat on you, I just want to go home.” Her plea wasn’t pitiful, it was just the truth. 

“I’m sorry, but my word is final.” He dropped his plate and took to his feet before waking off into the forest. Shaking her head, she felt the tug of her hair and the gag being replaced and the young boy in front of her asked politely for her hands, which she gave him. Tying her up again, the young boy lay her down onto the ground and covered her with the furs she brought with her.

“I’m sure the Captain will let you go, just give him some time.” He nodded to her and pulled the fur tight around her body. It was too early to sleep, it was mid-afternoon and no one was making any kind of indication that they were going to move. It didn’t stop her eyes from drooping but took in the sight of her Southern friend staring at her. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

She woke with a start and realised she was still bound. The darkness around her and the silence told her it was late. All the men around her lay on their backs, their own individual furs covering their bodies. This was her opportunity.

Fiddling with the bounds, she wiggled her hands about in an attempt to free her fingers. Just a few harsh tugs and she was free. Making sure not to make a noise, she lifted her fingers to the tied bounds and realised that they were much tighter than the ones around her wrists. Fucking asshole. 

Pulling the rag down over her jaw, she sighed from the sweet release. The creak and crack of her jaw only signalled that she should get the fuck out of there now when she has the chance. Pulling the fur from her body, she wrapped it around her shoulders, fastening the toggles around her neck. Her rifle bag was still up next to her horse, so all she had to do was make it past the Southerner and she was bound for home.

Rolling in the green grass, she pulled herself into a crouch as quiet as a panther and stood to her feet. Ducking behind the log, she moved quickly on her hands and knees, circling the camp till she was at the open ground. If she made a quick dash, the men would be too sleepy to pursue, so she jumped to her feet and ran the distance. Grabbing her bag, she hopped on her horse and rode. Feeling the beautiful pony carry her, she felt the freedom seep through her. But it didn’t last, the fading blackness was all she had and her vision became apparent when the young boy’s face was in hers.

“Sorry to wake you Miss, but we’re looking to head out in about twenty minutes and I didn’t want them startling you.” His smile was genuine and his actions for nice but she still scowled at him and nodded for him to remove the gag. He refused on account that he wasn’t in charge of such an act. 

“Okay fellar’s, we have about twelve hours before this here storm catches up with us. We get ridin’ now and the worst we get is a blizzard. Pack your shit.” The Southerner was packed before anyone else and he was hauling the girl to her feet. Checking her over, he grunted his approving and threw her over his shoulder. Squealing into the bounds, she watched the faces of the men as he marched past them. The sniggered and jeered at her, a silent approval that this man might take care of business, but instead, he hauled her onto the horse. Laying on her belly, she felt him bind her feet and run the rope up around her knees, pulling them tight.

“Grab her shit Anderson, put it on her horse.” Pulling her off the horse, he handed the girl to the young boy.

“Hold on to her Bridger.” His voice was threatening and he jumped onto his horse. Getting settled, he held both arms out to the young boy and she was hoisted up in the air towards the man. Her side was settled against his front and he leaned down to cut her bound feet and swung both her legs to straddle the horse.

“We’ll take the path up.” He nodded towards their Captain and they were off. This man had the fucking balls to ride her horse. 

“Now, you hear me girl. If you even try to scream or wriggle away from me, I will fucking kill you. You hear me?” His voice was right in her ear and his arms were settled around her cold body. But she knew from his voice, that it lacked any kind of compassion.

Nodding to his request, he pulled one hand from the reign and pulled the gag away from her mouth and took in a deep and shaky breath. Throwing her head back, she choked out a cough at how dry her throat was when the cold hair hit the back of her throat. The strangled coughs and splutters made her chest rattle from the effort. She felt the gentle pants on the back from her abductor.

“You’re alright. You’re alright.” His eyes were dead straight when she turned her head to the side at the softness in his voice. Clearing her throat, she made her body ridged.

“What’s your name?” Making her voice small, she waited for his reply. His grunt was the first to come, he was holding her close to him and she felt the grunt in her back. Rolling her eyes at this obvious display of Alpha Male, she waited patiently for him to reply.

“Fitzgerald. John Fitzgerald.” His reply was slow, like he was thinking it over in his head. She nodded at his reply. 

“Let’s not be friends. You don’t want me as a friend.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ride was long and unforgiving. They were still seated on the horse when the rest of the party caught up. Her body was cold and sore from the wind battering against her. His body was warm from the furs he was wearing and she was be fine if she had hers, but he was using it as a cushion for the both of them on the horse.

Bridger was the first one to notice her lips and her cold face.

“Fitzgerald, she’s freezing.” His concerned little face made her smile. Although she was freezing, she wasn’t willing to take any kind of charity. She noticed Fitzgerald’s face peek round to look at her and his sigh into her hair. He began to unfasten his leather coat, which she thought he was going to take off but realised she was wrong when he wrapped his arms around her front and pulling the coat with him.

Knowing she wasn’t going to struggle against him, he looked at his men and the Captain pass him.

“I saw we’re about another day’s ride. We can either brave it out or we can make camp down in those trees?” His Captains voice was full of tiredness and wariness. This is what was going to kill them. Stupid little rich boy can’t take the ride or the cold and he wants to set up camp.

“If I could add something Captain?” Fitzgerald started. He could feel her body start to warm against him and her cold hands grip his as she could feel her body again.

“But if we stop, we’re gonna need to build shelter from this storm coming. Now, I don’t know about you but no amount of fur is going to help us.” Pulling her closer, he felt her head turn into his chest and looked down at her closed eyes and realised that it was a losing battle.

“Fine, but we grab a quick rest and then we move.” Kicking his horse into gear, he rode towards the forest. Full of darkness and damp, he realised that no matter where they set up camp, if the storm was to hit earlier, they were going to be stranded.

Stopping by a small opening, the thirty of so men piled into the small space. He looked down at the slumbering girl and waited for someone to dismount before handing her off. Lucky for him, it was Bridger.

“Can you take her? Make a bed over there, I’ll lay with her for a few hours.” He didn’t want to. The girl was no good and he could smell crazy on her, but she wasn’t in any state to be sleeping without some kind of warmth. Bridger quickly lay some of their furs on the ground and lifted her off the horse, laying her across the softness as he jumped from her horse and tied it to the closest trunk.

“You think Captain will let her go once we’re at the Barracks?” Bridger was always naïve. He was too young to understand why she was here. She was the first white woman to cross their paths and even if she wasn’t to run squealing, she was a fine shot and they could make a fine profit from her.

“Get some rest.” His voice was steady and the boy took head of it and settled down in his own bed. He looked at the young girl curled up and placed the dark brown fur he had been using as a saddle over her cold body.

“She’s a fucking peach. I hope we can keep her.” Anderson said from the middle as he made a camp fire. The rest of the men seemed to agree, even though they had willing wives at home. As soon as they sniff out fresh young pussy, their willing to follow any idiot down the rabbit hole.

“You don’t get to keep anything Anderson. She’s under the Captains protection. Now, if you want to get yourself hung, by all means, keep going. If not, shut your trap, light the fire and get some sleep.” His face was set cold on the man in front of him. If there was anything he detested, was the man talking down to a woman. She might have been beautiful and he wanted to respect her, but Anderson was known for touching what he didn’t belong.

“Coming from the man all cuddled into her this afternoon. You’ll have her willing legs wrapped around your head in no time.” Anderson chuckled with the rest of them and Fitzgerald was already settled into the resting place.

“Better my head, than yours Anderson.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waking from her slumber, her body was wrapped in a warm hug. Her groggy state woke to her being spooned by Fitzgerald. His body was wrapped around hers, his hands holding her wrists that were crossed. He held her tightly and sensed her wake.

“If you try anything, I’ll break your arm.” His voice was laced with sleep.

“I’m not going to try anything, I just didn’t except someone to be sleeping next to me.” She whispered, his body seeming to realise their closeness and gave her a little more space. Instantly feeling the cold invade her, she moved back against him when she realised it was still too early to wake up.

He lifted his head to look at her crown, taken back by the move.

“If you’re going to be laying here with me, you may as well keep me warm.”

Moving his head a little further back at her words, she wiggled into him and he tightened his arms around her small body. Letting the darkness take him, he dreamt of the soft sighs she made in her sleep.


	3. All The Drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of Possible Rape! Just a warning!

The wind seemed to pick up around the group. They couldn’t seem to escape the howling winds and the bitter snow. The encasement of trees around them seemed to be their only protection against the harsh wrath of Mother Nature. The group of men sat around the freshly caught carcass of the deer that Fitzgerald caught just before the snow battered the surroundings. 

Grey was still tied and sat on the nearby log, just in case she decides to change her mind of being obedient. John was quite happy to sit across from her, chewing on the tough piece of meat and watching as she rolled her eyes and huffed.

“We sit this out. We wait for the worst to blow over and then we head straight for the fort. We’re no more than a few hours away.” Captain Henry was an upstanding man, she worked that much out when he was unsure with the tying and gagging her. 

“We shouldn’t be here anyways. Fitzgerald was right. If we didn’t fuck about to begin with, we would be there by now.” Anderson sat in front of her again, his obnoxious chewing grating on her last nerve. She hadn’t ate yet, her body tired and sore from the ride and laying on ground for so long. His shoulder casually seemed to rub against Grey’s leg and her nervous stare seemed to zone in on John sitting across from her. His constant stare on Anderson seemed to settle her stomach but when he took in her frightened face suddenly, he stood to his feet and walked over to her.

He took the gag from her mouth and gently swiped away the extra spit from her face from where the gag was cutting in and cut away the rope from her hands. Her breath of release was staggered and her face was pale. He swiped away the hair from her face and handed her the rest of his plate. Although it wasn’t much, it was enough to take the edge of her hunger away. Smiling up to him softly, she edged herself a little further away from Anderson and consumed her meat in peace.

Grey found herself gagged and bound to Fitzgerald again. Her front to his and her hands tied around his back. Her cheek was pressed against the hand plain of his chest and her body was flushed against his with the fur around her back. She watched to the side as all the men rode together, the cold nothing to her with John’s leather waistcoat and fur around her. With the pace of the horse, she felt herself being pulled towards John every few paces. The friction of horse creating a lovely feeling that mixed with the warmth of his body. 

 

He smelt the way she imagined a man should smell. The musk and woody aroma settled her nervous stomach as she felt the horse carry her over a small hill. 

The pace was steady because of the snow, but they all rode with a purpose. She watched Bridger and Anderson take to the front of the group, looking out for any danger. Fitzgerald kept her close, he never shared his saddle with anyone but she would be in more danger with anyone else in this group if it wasn’t for him.

The sudden change in pace, caused Grey to turn her head round. The large wooden structure stood tall in the distance. The whooping and hollering of the other men told her this was the place they wanted to be. She felt Fitzgerald physically relax and his horse slow into a trot as they got onto flat, steady land. Looking up at his face, he looked down to meet her eyes and gave her the faintest of smiles and a wink. She wasn’t one for reading into anything, but that was his happy face.

The fort was far from glamourous. As they rode towards the gates, their horses were swarmed by various children and women looking for money or rations and she felt her heartbreak as she looked at their cold faces. Feeling John’s had leave the rein and rest on her lower back as he waved to the man on the gate to let them in. 

 

Her body was humming with energy as they entered the small fort and the various men gathered to help them with their supplies. They left John as they saw the bundle of skin hold on to him. Jumping from his horse, Bridger brought his blade up to her bounds and cut her free from the man. Sitting back on the horse, she rubbed her cold sore wrists that were red raw from the coarse material. Hissing, she couldn’t help but scowl at the man in front of her. His face lacked any kind of compassion as he backed away from her and jumped from the horse. Wrapping herself in the fur, she felt her body being lifted from the animal and her feet hit the floor.

“We’ll get you a bunk if there’s any left, if not, you’ll be bunking with either me or Bridger.” Pulling his supplies from the horse, he turned to see her scowl deepen further.

“You can’t keep me here. I have a home and a family who are depending on me, John. Please, you need to talk to him.” Pointing to the Captain, John followed her finger to the ginger man barking commands at the various men.

“You were in that forest alone. We don’t know what you were doing. You need to stay here for the duration of the hunt and then we can let you go.” John walked past the shivering woman and felt her spin round to chase him.

“The DURATION of the hunt? That could be WEEKS! I can’t stay here! FUCK IF I AM STAYING HERE.” Racing past him, she threw the fur from her body and marched towards her horse that Anderson was riding and snatched the various satchels from the saddle. She was so angry at the situation, she didn’t care that the coldness was biting her skin. Her white shirt wasn’t protection enough from the elements. 

Throwing the various items over her shoulder, she walked back towards John and the gate. 

“Go fuck yourself John Fitzgerald.” Squaring her shoulders as she neared the gate, she was thankful that no one took any notice of her. That was until she was tackled from behind.

“You aren’t going anywhere, sweetheart.” His voice would have sent a shiver down her spin, instead it fuelled the fire in her eyes. He began ripping the small satchel and sacks from her shoulders, letting them fall to the ground in a heap. Before he could even register she had done it, she punched him square in the jaw. Stumbling back, he heard the various curse words from his fellow hunters as they witnessed the small woman almost floor him.

Holding his jaw, he looked at her smirking face.

“Fucking watch me Fitzgerald.” Turning again, she began running for the gate. The men around her not wanting to get involved in the obvious display of “back and forth”

Running after her, he grunted and swore under his breath as he underestimated her speed.

Although she was fast, she didn’t anticipate the various pelts and sacks on the ground as she kept looking over her shoulder to make sure he was a good few paces behind. Catching her leg, she fell to the ground was an “Ompf!” and he was on her back the next second.

Struggling still, she managed to arch him off her enough to turn and punch him in the gut. The mad scramble to her feet alerted him enough to grab a hold of her ankle and pull her back.

“Fucking pig.” Kicking him again and again, she all but missed his face and kept digging her heel into his shoulder as he tried crawling over her body. Finally pinning her, he looked down at her already swollen face.

“Get used to it.” Hauling her to her feet and over his shoulder, he carried her through the small camp, her hollering echoing through the snowy hills. The various men wolf whistling in the background but he could only focus on the pain in his shoulder and the woman settled on it.

“I am of no use to you. I don’t give a fuck about your pelts.” Going limp over his shoulder as they walked towards the small cottage like building, he only tightened his grip on her and spoke loud enough for her to hear.

“What makes you think you’re of no use? Wake up sweetheart. The only thing more interesting about you is what’s between your legs or to rephrase, what will be between them if you don’t keep your fucking mouth shut.” His words stung. How could she be so stupid? 

—-

All the men gathered in the small makeshift bar and the various violins and bodhrans played in the background. Fitzgerald sat with his ale quietly in the corner and thought about the week he had to just endure. He didn’t have to take shit like that and the woman was playing on his mind constantly. He imagined it was because he hadn’t been anywhere near one for months and now he was suddenly bound up next to one. 

Leaving her in the Captains cottage tied up was the best thing for her. He couldn’t be around her 24/7. That was until he realised there was no sign of Anderson and his posy. His panic didn’t go unnoticed when Bridger looked him over.

“What’s the matter Fitz?” Bridger put his drink down when John jumped to his feet and looked around the hut at all the men present, not seeing Anderson anywhere. He was usually holding some innocent up against the wall at this time. He wasn’t here. 

“Where is Anderson and Jones?” He was still hoping that he was in the hut and when Bridger jumped to his feet next to him, he realised that he had left Grace to the wolves.

—-

“Come on sweetheart, give us a kiss!” Her back was against the mattress and both hands tied above her head. Her fully clothed body was the only layer separating her from Anderson. The other man stood at the window and kept his eye focused on the hut.

“Hurry the fuck up, Anderson. They’re going to realise we’re not there.” Anderson continued to lick and kiss at her face as she tried to squirm away from him. His body straddled over hers to undo his trousers. Panic raised into Grace’s throat and her eyes went wide when he started to unbutton her trousers.

“I’ve thought about this since I saw you shower in the woods. You’re not as skinny as I liked, but beggars can’t be choosers.” Leaning down to kiss her square on the lips, she squealed against him. Trying to bite at his lip, he backed away laughing and stopped when she spat in his eye.

“You can do whatever the fuck you like. You just need to watch your fucking back when you’re finished.” Her voice growled out at him and he shrunk back for a split second before pulling at her breaches. Looking up at the ceiling and focusing on anything but his hands, she wished and prayed that Fitzgerald was a little smarter to pick up on the absence of his friends. 

His hands were everywhere. Her heavy breathing seemed to only urge him on. He kissed and nipped at the exposed skin of her breast as he ripped the shirt of its first four buttons.

“You’re so fucking soft. I could touch you all day, but unfortunately, we don’t have time to get you all nice and wet.” Pulling himself from his trousers, he pulled at her white underwear.

“Fuck! He’s coming Anderson. Hurry the fuck up!” The man jumped from the window and ran across the room to the bed and started to pull at her clothing. 

Screaming out to Fitzgerald, she felt Anderson clamp his hand down on her mouth and the other take her throat.

“Shut up whore!” Before he could go any further, he heard the front door rush open and the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Pulling his body away from her, he set himself right and picked up his rifle just as John came through the door. 

“What the FUCK are you doing?” Bridger ran in behind him and straight to Grace. Holding her face, he checked to make sure she wasn’t hurt any more than she was before.

“Are you alright?” His voice was childlike and she nodded in thanks to him. His hands began trying to untie the various leather bands that Fitzgerald put on her that afternoon. Much to his dismay, all the knots were secured with various fisherman knots and ties, rendering him useless at helping the damsel in distress.

“She’s fair game John. You think the Cap’in brought her here for decoration.” Anderson pointed his rifle at the man and John saw red.

“You do not look at her. You do not fucking speak to her. YOU DO NOT TOUCH HER!” He kept walking towards the man and he saw him finger the trigger and pull. Pulling the rifle over his shoulder, the shot hit the stone of the wall behind him and John threw the end of the rifle into Anderson’s shocked and frightened face, knocking him unconscious.

Turning to look at Bridger struggling with the straps, he kicked Anderson for good measure. Jones stood against the far wall, shaking from the scene that hand unfolded.

“Bridger, take Jones down to the Captain. Explain the situation. I’ll take care of this.” Walking towards the other side of the bed, he watched the young boy pull Jones from the room and down the stairs, leaving Anderson unconscious on the floor. His eyes took in the woman in front of him. He noticed the various bites and slobber on her chest and neck and her trousers had been undone. Her crisp white shirt was ripped enough to see the swell of her right breast, but kept her decent enough to know he hadn’t gotten any further than just petting.

“You alright?” His voice was small and concerned. Her eyes searching his for something. 

“I will be when you untie me.” Biting her lip from the pain of the leather digging into her wrists. He reached up and untangled the various knots with ease and brought her arms down. Before he could move away to give her some privacy, she sat up and threw her small arms around him. A choked sob escaping her chest.

“Thank you John. Thank you.” He didn’t know where to put his hands. Settling a palm against her skull and the other on the small of her back, he nodded at her thanks and pulled her away.

“You’re alright. You’re alright. Cover up, it’s freezing.” He heard the various feet on the stairs and took in her ripped shirt and unbuttoned trousers, she pulled the comforter over her cold body just as Captain Henry entered the bedroom. 

“What’s going on? Are you alright?” Henry moved to her side and she seemed to flinch closer to Fitzgerald. Nodding when he stopped far enough away, she covered herself some more when two men grabbed a hold an unconscious Anderson.

“Bridger and Fitzgerald came just in time.” Clearing her throat and swiping the hair from her face, John moved alongside the bed and stood at the foot of it, ready to speak to the Captain.

“John, you stay with her here tonight. I’ll sleep in the barracks. I’ll sort this mess in the morning.” Nodding to the John, he bowed his head to the woman, his own form of an apology.

“I’m sorry Miss. You shouldn’t have to endure this. He’ll be locked in the cell until I decide what we do with him.” She was hoping for castration and it brought a smile to her face, one the Captain took as a thank you.

“Can I speak to you John?” Henry signalled Joh out the door and he couldn’t help but cast a wary eye to Grace as she settled herself.

—-

“I want you to keep an eye on her. I don’t exactly want to pay you as a babysitter, but she could be useful in a hunt and we could use her skills.” The Captain spoke low so she couldn’t hear him through the thin doors.

“With all due respect Cap’n. She’s a big girl, she can defend herself. I had to tie her up to keep her from escaping, which was Andersons only advantage. I will stay the night with her, but then she can sleep in the barracks with the other men.” John wasn’t one for sugar coating and he realised she was almost raped, but she did punch and kick fuck out of him for trying to help.

“There’s no room for her in the barracks, unless she doubled up with someone. I could ask Bridger. Unless, you want her?” Henry gave him a knowing nod. One that said “She trusts you and you don’t really have a choice.”

“We’ll see.” Grunting at him, the Captain clapped him on the back and ushered the men out of the small cottage to leave them alone. Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned to the door and walked in on Grace pulling the shirt from her body. Jumping from fright, she covered her bare chest.

“Fucking knock!” John had seen breast before. But not full heavy ones like hers. He couldn’t erase the image from his head, even if he tried.

“I was right outside the door. You should have been more careful.” Pulling his red coat from his body and placing it on the chair, he stretched his tired limbs out and cracked his neck. He needed sleep and he didn’t want to deal with her drama. Pulling his boots off, he was left in his clothes socks and dark shirt. Moving around the bed, he sat on the other side of her.

“What are you doing?” Her body started to feel the chill from the air and she wished she hadn’t thrown the fur away so easily.

“I’m getting ready to sleep.” He shrugged his shirt off and Grace looked at the detail of his muscled back. The ridges of various scars and muscle defined by his dark Texan skin.

“You aren’t sleeping here. Go down stairs.” Her shirt was free from her body and the only thing keeping her decent was the comforter.

“You’ve slept beside me for the past three nights. The only difference is the bed and the roof over our heads. Lay back and sleep. I’m too tired to deal with your shit.” Laying on his side, facing away from her, she huffed at his answer and settled into the mattress. 

Closing her tired eyes, she drifted away from the bed and into the darkness.

Waking in a cold sweat, she felt the foreign body shift and sigh against her. Much rather, her body move with the intake of breath the body took.

Her bare chest was pressed against the slim side of Fitzgerald. His hand fisted in her hair and the other spread across his stomach. Her right hands was placed over his heart and she felt content.

In utter shock, she realised the comforter was away from her body and her full top half was pressed against him. Her body so warm and relaxed.

“Stop thinking about it and sleep.” Jumping at his voice, his eyes were still closed but his body moved her closer to him, placing his hand at the top of her arm and settling back into his dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it seems like I'm hating on Anderson! But I needed a bad guy and he seemed to defend Fitzgerald through out the entire movie! Bridger is too sweet and cute!  
> Paul Anderson is a gentleman and he's such an amazing actor! This is in no way a tarnish of his acting/personality. I just needed a bad guy, that's all!
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying the story!


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